


[HIATUS] Where Dead Men Called Out

by decertatio



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decertatio/pseuds/decertatio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Hiatus] Andrea found her much-needed genesis in the aptly named Hopeville, but in her radioactive exodus bore Benny instead; a force of amnesiac ill-fated vengeance.  Will she find her purpose in her revelations?</p>
            </blockquote>





	[HIATUS] Where Dead Men Called Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This fic is on indefinite hiatus.

 

For weeks he had walked the path paved for him by Caesar.  With the sun bearing down on his back, and the dry heat blasting in his face, Ulysses was glad to have worn a sleeveless coat in lieu of the standard explorer armor.  It felt symbolic, to some extent.  He knew Caesar’s obsession with the Old World narrative; if the Colorado did not kill the Bull, the Mojave would.

Some miles west of the Colorado, Ulysses stumbled upon an independent, thriving community that had adopted the area’s Pre-war name.  When he inquired as to how the residents had discovered this, they pointed to a lingering Old World presence, in the form of abandoned military housing.  Preserving information (the least guarded ones, anyway) for the community’s founders. 

Hopeville was more than a hamlet of ramshackle housing like most of the abodes littered across the wide stretch between California and Nevada.  Indeed, there were several outlying towns, Ashton being the nearest, that supported the town with agriculture, and some minute but significant manufacturing of much needed goods.  A bountiful amount of trade went through the young city-in-the-making, giving it a beginning that most communities would wage devastating wars for.   Peaceful, almost.

Ulysses breathed in this Divide like a gasp of fresh air.  Almost as if in spite, it maintained its independence from Legion or even the strong NCR presence from the West.

Though one must exhale eventually.

In the following weeks he spent there, building himself a place of rest, he gave himself some respite from Caesar’s commands.  He had become familiar with his new neighbours: they knew his name and he knew theirs.  A name in particular featured often in this new genesis.

“Yule!”

“Andrea.”

The petite courier ran up to his apartment door before he closed it behind him.  His name was alien to her and she had taken to shortening it to syllable.

Though small of frame, she was no stranger to the wastelands.  He travels, he surmised, must have been just as extensive as his own, seeing as they shared an occupation.  Andrea’s calloused hands sifted briefly through her bulging satchel before producing a nondescript letter, addressed to him.  He took it, as she continued conversationally,

“You don’t mind me calling you that, right? I mean, I’ve delivered your letters enough that we’re basically friends now.  Well, close acquaintances?” She added hastily, eyes wary of his poker expression.

“No.  It’s fine.”

“You still owe me a story about why you’re called that, by the way.  Kind of a weird name.”

Ulysses continued pleasantries, giving a small smile.   “Perhaps over a few drinks.”

Andrea returned a grin, before her features quickly faded into an inquisitive expression.

“D’you like this place?”

“The apartment building is not too bad.  Amenities… spacious but not grandiose.”

“No, no,” She shook her head, “I mean, the location.  It’s… comfortable here.  No NCR, no Legion… did you hear about the war out east, in the Mojave?”

Maintaining a neutral, mildly interested expression, he raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently it’s going bad for the NCR.  The Legion’s campaign overpowered them in the Dam, so there’s talk of a mass retreat.  Last I heard, they were holed up in Boulder City.  But, another attack is imminent.”  She shifted her bag as she leant against the bare concrete wall.

“Can’t say I like the idea of a Caesar instead of a President.  Kinda sounds a lot like an _Emperor_ to me.”  Andrea pursed her lips.

“Interesting.”  _Emperor?_ He had heard of the Shi.  Another old civilization grasping for survival in the Wasteland, having dug their roots deep in San Francisco.  Indeed, it was their society that birthed stories of a verdant land in the ruins of an even older, less reputable civilization.  His reverie broke as she started again.

“Well, it’s not like Kimball is all that much better.  With this struggle against the Legion, the military is pretty much gripping him by the balls.  Hell, it might be a good change if it didn’t mean I’d end up cattle for their soldiers.”

“You wouldn’t.”  He replied before thinking.

“Huh?”

Continuing, he replied, “You are a courier, are you not?” 

Ulysses levelled an intense stare before Andrea’s eyes glittered with understanding.

“Oh yeah, you used to do jobs in Legion territory!”

Nodding, he explained, “Many couriers are women.  Granted, considered lesser than their male counterparts, but never were they … reassigned to undignified duties.  A respected occupation.”

The courier nodded before grinning, her eyes squinting in curiously at him.

“Honestly, Yule, you seem like a man made of stories.”

They quickly wrapped up their small talk, after she remembered she had other deliveries to make before sundown.

* * *

 

The days that followed were similar: this courier visiting another courier at the end of their travels, conversing and sharing stories.  He was taciturn at best, but she persisted with such a pleasant forgetfulness.  Eventually, Ulysses partially let down his guard around her, indulging Andrea with some select stories from his travels.  Though he kept his allegiance discreet, she seemed much less abrasive towards the Legion since he told her of the couriers in their territory.

He tested the waters frequently with Andrea, wary of potential NCR counter intelligence.  It was not entirely above them to do so; he had encountered such before.  With the help of his superior’s machinations, it ended in an entire town decimated by radiation.

However, Ulysses found Andrea to be nothing more than a restless spirit, tired of her job and yet an insatiable wanderlust.

“The job’s not without its dangers, don’t get me wrong.  Radscorpions, Deathclaws are aplenty between Reno and Vegas.  But…”

“It lacks accomplishment,” he said, finishing her thought.

Nodding, the ice in her glass clinked with the remnants of alcohol diluting.  “I’m just one person, right? If the Mojave’s any indicator, you need an army to make any difference in the Wasteland.  Otherwise it’s just: ‘hurrah, here’s your letter sir/madam’.”  Andrea downed the whisky, before raising her glass in mock salute.

“Cheers for the indomitable mailman.  The world may end in fire, but take heart, your package will arrive on time!”

Earning a derisive snort from Ulysses, he replied, “Perhaps you should change the slogan for the Mojave Express.”

“A service you can count on!” A tipsy chuckle erupted from her lips, as he echoed her laughter.

* * *

 

Andrea eventually moved into a humble flat, not unlike his own, a block across from his own apartment complex.  Though she was home as often Ulysses was (which was rarely), it was comforting to have a place to call home, a sentiment they found they shared.  They would end up leaving Hopeville at the same time, before parting to go towards their intended destination.

Here Andrea found a place to stay and retire her wanderlust.  As she settled into the town, she grew gradually concerned with the local community’s infrastructure.  Months passed as they sat down nightly, recollecting the day’s events as she started enlisting Ulysses’ help acquiring resources, (trade agreements with independent farmers, caravans).  They became a catalyst for what seemed a rebirth for Hopeville.  Even without realising, he too felt invested in the town’s welfare.  _Yule and Andy_.  Household names across the thriving community.

Ulysses would rarely admit truths out loud without reason, but he had grown affection for her.  With Andrea, the monotony of their courier work shifted from chore to adventure.  A renewed sense of purpose.  Which surprised him when she had stated her plans.

“Retiring?”

“I guess you inspired me.  Also, this is such a quiet little city we’ve made for ourselves.  I’m comfortable.”

“Somehow, I don’t see you as a farmer.”

“Don’t know ‘til I try.  Maybe I can just be a guard.  The local inn’s had some trouble.  They could use an intimidating bouncer.”

All it took was a scrutinising look from Ulysses before she harrumphed.

He added, mirth tugging at the corners of his lips, “I’m sure they’ll be frightened by you and the stool you stand on to glare at them.”

A pillow collided angrily with his arm.

**Author's Note:**

> Intended to be a long story, and very much indulgent. I'd still love critique. I have no beta as we speak, but I hope I'm good enough. If there's too much unchecked foofarah then I'll look into wrangling someone into it.


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